Bear
In my profession, the human
figure is a regular and favorite subject. From choice, nine out of ten of my
works feature females, and though thee are no ropes or straps or chains visible
in their design, the women appear to be stretched, slightly contorted and
straining. The theory behind their appeal, is that extension and manipulation of
the body that introduces an element of design and stylization.
One
is re-styling the body when the waist is compressed by a corset. Suspending a
person by their wrists from an overhead hook or beam extends the body, curiously
adding to its attraction. The sight of a woman with arms tied behind at the
wrists and elbows, making her appear armless when viewed from the front (another
example of re-designing), stirs something up in the mind of the viewer.
“Revulsion” is the cry in some cases. “Exquisite” the response of the
bondage devotee.
When
pondering this fact, which influences my work so strongly, I sometimes try to
recall where and when it all started for me, and the discoveries I have made may
be of interest to others, or indeed coincide with their experiences, providing
useful comparisons and reassurance.
For
the “kinky” as we have become known, reassurance is sometimes needed because
most of us have suffered embarrassment and guilt feelings because of our
“vice”. The influences start early in life and innocently enough. Also
completely beyond our control I have discovered.
I
suspect that my fondness for vinyl, satin, leather, and a good number of other
sensual materials, started way back in my infancy. (As is good a place as any to
start an autobiography, I guess). In England, where I was born, a new baby is
toted around town by proud young mother in a perambulator. In those days (and
I’m sure to this day), these carriages were finely crafted and it was possible
to recognize the “Rolls-Royces” of the species when encountered on the
street or in the public parks. Princes and Princesses of the Royal Family were
taken out for an airing in the same name-brand vehicle that was available to the
public, so that the class of perambulator one pushed was an important status
symbol. Safely tucked inside, often wrapped as tightly as an Egyptian mummy, the
adored infant viewed the outside world from his warm cocoon. The pillow was
invariably satin covered, the sheets of cool, crisp linen, (lace-edged usually),
and the blankets were as soft as the proverbial cloud. It becomes obvious that
this would be a likely place for a young impressionable fellow to start taking
on a preference for certain conditions, and pick up a few fetishes.
There
was an outermost protective cover on top of these wrappings, which was made of
shiny vinyl, or patent leather, usually matching or stylishly contrasting with
the enamel coated body of the “pram”. Cream, maroon, black or white were
popular colors. This pleasantly scented weather guard could be raised and
extended in front of the childs face so that he or she was almost hidden from
sight.
On
sunny days one was allowed to ride in the upright seated position, prevented
from falling out, (or escaping) by a cleverly designed set of straps and
buckles. So you can see that we are now well into mild B&D, restraint, and
fetishism. This sunny-day rig also included another item of interest in the
shape of a silk canopy or sun-shade. This, when unfurled, bathed the young
passenger in a diffused peachy light, and was complete with a fascinating
dancing fringe attached to its outer edge. A touch which I think added a degree
of preparation for the appreciation of go-go dancers in fringed dresses, later
in life.
The
warm environment of gentle restraint, security and love, together with many
pleasant textures and scents, was bound to carry through into adult-hood. I was
one of these pampered children, albeit not of royal birth.
At
school in England in my days, corporal punishment was permitted. The teachers
were usually lenient and would try hard to avoid using the cane, strap, or
ruler. I discovered however, that certain ones, when provoked, could wield a
mean instrument of chastisement. I dreaded the possibility of being punished. I
never did develop a liking for pain unless of the mild variety, but I have to
confess to the fact that when fellow students were punished in view of the
others in the classroom, I always experienced a sensation of arousal, not
realizing at the time that it was sexual arousal; an unknown force that would
journey with us into our adulthood.
One
particular instance of my being affected by the punishment of a fellow student,
remains forever clear in my memory. The recipient was a beautiful girl who was a
top scholar. She was always well behaved, punctual, and in all respects a
perfect pupil. She could do no wrong – the teachers pet.
All
the boys in our co-educational school longed to date her, to be known as one of
her friends. Just to talk to her was a special, rare privilege and pleasure. The
girl knew she was good-looking and popular with everyone so it was inevitable
that some students were not welcome within her select entourage. I was one of
the unfortunates.
One
day we were instructed by a strict disciplinarian of a teacher who was filling
in for our regular mistress who was indisposed for a few days. There had been
several incidents of our class making a lot of noise and generally disgracing
itself whenever the teacher would step out of the room for a short time. She was
quite fair in giving us warning that just one more occurrence of this
intolerable behavior would result in severe punishment for the offenders. Sure
enough, the teacher returned unexpectedly from one of her errands, to find the
pupils laughing and playing noisily when they should have been quietly studying.
“Teachers
Pet” was standing up on her desk seat, beseeching us to be quiet and do as the
teacher asked. The sight of this girl facing the other students and shouting
above the din, prompted Madam to conclude that she was one of the noisiest, and
perhaps the instigator of the uproar.
She
did, indeed, quickly and accurately, select most of the main offenders, but
wrongly included little Miss Innocence in her bunch of criminals. We, the
remaining pupils still seated in our appointed places, were then treated to the
spectacle of the indoctrination into pain and humiliation of our little angel.
The punishment was the prolonged rapping of the knuckles with a wooden ruler,
which was known to cause severe discomfort and considerable swelling of the
finger joints. Quite barbaric in fact.
I
felt in a way responsible for causing my heroine to be up there, because I
certainly contributed as much as anyone to the earlier commotion. When her turn
came for the cruel ruler to be administered, the teacher was just getting into
her stride. The first two or three victims had flinched and squirmed as she held
their wrists, making the caning task rather difficult. One arriving further down
the line at our beauty, she had resolved to have no more nonsense.
Teachers
Pet tried hard to suffer the first agonizing waves of pain with dignity, hoping
to set a fine example of composure to all of us. The pain was something
completely new and unknown to her however, and this caused her to twist and
writhe until, in spite of the woman’s greater strength and growing anger, the
girl eventually escaped the cruel grip. Upon recapture, the same knuckles were
taken and beaten to the length of time deemed necessary, with an extra heavy
dose on the opposite hand for the prisoner having been so cowardly as to try
avoiding the punishment.
During
this ordeal the girl had clenched and unclenched her free hand, the fingernails
biting into her palm. Beneath her light summer dress her budding hips and
breasts shuddered uncontrollably. Her golden hair tossed this way and that as
her head arched back and then dropped sadly to her chest. She wore her hair cut
very short and close to her head. I always marveled at the way it would fall
back exactly in place in spite of those violent spasms. Now her face was
changed, tear-stained, disillusioned, violated, and downcast. Towards the end of
it all there were a few things to be noted about the state of the crotch of more
than one of the onlookers.
I
love to see a damsel in distress. When I was a teenager I played together with a
healthy group of friends on a beach near where we lived, and there was a
harmless game we used to include in our schedule called “Buried Alive.”
Much
less harmful than the title implies, the idea was to chase one of our number, (a
girl if I had the choice), and upon capture, to place her in a shallow hole we
had earlier dug for the purpose. Held down by many hands it was an easy task to
cover her with sand and heap it in a heavy mound from chin to ankles. The feet
were left exposed for tickling torture. Just watching her lying there helplessly
immobilized and at our mercy was a tremendous turn-on. Towards the end of the
game there was one last refinement which I always enjoyed. Sea-water was brought
up in whatever containers we could find and the sand covering the girls was
wetted so that it became cold and heavy. Captured myself many a time this
sensation was most thrilling, the increased weight and chilling confinement were
like no other experience. At times the girl’s hair would be drenched by the
water and would cling to her head like a close-fitting helmet, that favorite
item of adornment of bondage devotees.
Now
living and working in Canada, I know there are many others who appreciate the
subtle pleasures of bondage games. The attraction of the bound limbs, and the
trust between slave and master. It is still not wise to publicize ones hobby, at
least, not in this conservative country. One would lose more friends than he
would win by letting the truth be known.
I
shall continue to produce erotic drawings as long as there is someone who gets
pleasure or inspiration from my ideas.
-- Bear
“Bear” has been a
favorite of mine since I saw his first piece of work. There’s not a time-frame
in the history of man that he couldn’t turn into a bondage scene. It could be
Pilgrims, Knights in armor, aliens, cowboys, sailing ships or Zulus, he could
draw something that would turn you on.